Perfect Timing
by chrissie0707
Summary: Short added tension to I Like to Watch, so spoilers for same. NickGris friendship piece.


**A/N **Absolutely loved the episode last night. Wasn't expecting that jab at Brass in the end, but wow, that was a great bit of drama and outstanding acting by PG. Great ep, but I was still in writer's mode from working on the story, and this plopped out of my fingers. I don't think that I was the only one who was kind ofexpecting or at least hoping that this was another opportunity that the writer's had given themselves for a little bit of after-GD tension. Or not, I don't know. As it is, this is a short addition that I wrote to the ep. Wasn't sure how I was going to end it, so I just sat and waited for something to come to me. I kinda like it, but you don't have to. Just more wishful thinking on the part of this fan that wants everyone to be the way they were. Did anyone else notice that besides Gris and Cath, there was no interaction among the team? Intentional? Guess that's where I'm getting the ideas for "B and E." Ah, well, I've rambled long enough.

Oh, yeah, and I still have nothing to do with the show, but I had a thought: what if one bought stock in Viacom? Then, in theory, wouldn't one be shareholder in CBS and therefore _CSI_? If so, we should look into that.

Yay for Spring Break!

* * *

**Perfect Timing****

* * *

**

He told them about the prints. His hands were shaking slightly, but he held up the bags, one after the other, and he told them about the prints.

Bright light. Right in his face, but he stared straight into the camera and explained how he had gotten the name. He was nervous, and was sure that it was being picked up by every piece of equipment that was hovering in his personal space.

He leaned back a little as the boom mike was shoved further into his face. "…and then that got me a, uh, a driver's license-"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stokes," the guy with the clipboard said, stepping forward and waving a hand in front of the camera lens. "Do you think that we could start over?"

Nick held the paper printout tightly in his shaking hand. "Why?"

"You're doing great. Just, just act natural," the man said with one of _those_ smiles, stepping back behind the cameraman once more.

_But this isn't natural,_ Nick thought, frustrated. _There's nothing natural about having a camera shoved in your face._ He nodded, and leaned back a little more.

He started over. He stared into that camera, stared into the light, and told them about the prints. _'Just five minutes', _Grissom had said_. 'Five minutes, Nick. Tell them how you got us the name, and then they'll talk to someone else. They just want to get a little bit of all of the team.'_

Clear, and concise. Third time's a charm. He chuckled uneasily and tore his eyes away from the camera lens. Do it for court all the time. Big difference, though – not used to the camera. Never be used to the camera.

He started to gather his things, but he could feel the men still standing next to him.

"You guys need something else?" he asked, frowning.

Clipboard Man smiled, big and fake. "We just have a few more questions for you, if you don't mind."

The boom mike was shoved forward again. The red light on the camera blinked at him. No, Grissom had told him five minutes, and he had given them seven minutes and twenty-four seconds. Three takes. More than they needed.

Nick's eyes narrowed at the microphone. "About the case?"

"Not exactly…"

Nick shuffled his papers and bags over to the other edge of the table. "I don't think so." Something wasn't right about the situation, about the tone in the man's voice, and he wanted to get out of the room. Out of the sight of the camera, out of the range of that intrusive microphone.

His hand slipped, and the papers slid off of the table and floated to the tiled floor. Nick muttered a curse and stooped to pick them up.

He heard the snapping of fingers, and the shuffling of feet as the camera followed him around the corner of the table. "Mr. Stokes, how are you deal-"

_No, no, no. _Nick whirled around, nearly slamming his head into the camera, which had ever-so-graciously set up shop over his shoulder. "What are you doing?" he asked angrily. He quickly stood and gestured to the camera. "Is that still on?"

Director Extraordinaire held up a hand. "It would make a great human interest bit in the show," he tried to explain.

"Your show is about forensics," Nick said heatedly. "I told you what you were here for, and we're done now."

"Mr. Stokes-"

"He _said_ you're done."

The men all turned in the direction of the stern voice. Gil Grissom stood behind Clipboard Man, arms crossed, a supremely pissed-off look on his face.

Grissom to the rescue. Again. Nick breathed a sigh and took a step back. It was getting a little stuffy in the room, but he felt better now that camera wasn't focused on him.

"Mr. Grissom-" the man started but was cut off again.

"If I catch you shoving that camera into the face of one of my people again, and trying to talk about anything that doesn't pertain to this case, the show's off." Grissom's voice was strange and low and threatening.

Nick wasn't sure that Grissom had the authority to make such a threat, but it worked. The nosy man nodded in guilty compliance. The light on the camera dimmed, and the equipment was finally lowered.

Grissom stepped aside, and jerked his head to the door behind him. "Get your footage, and get out of my lab."

Nick remained standing in the middle of the room, glaring until the crew was well out of eyeshot. He then laid his hands on the table and shook his head. "I should have known that they were going to try something like that."

Grissom laid a hand on Nick's shoulder and shook his head. "No, Nick. You shouldn't have to."

Nick turned and gave his supervisor a grateful smile. Grateful for his words, grateful for his presence, grateful for his always perfect timing.

Grissom returned the smile, and gave his shoulder a small squeeze. "You did good work tonight, Nick."

Nick nodded his thanks.

"If they come around you again-"

"They won't," Nick said. "Thanks, Gris."

* * *

That smile was worth more than his paycheck was going to be that month, including the overtime. 

Grissom took the long way back to his office, squinting down hallways, glaring into lab rooms, making sure that his words were being heeded. The camera crew was hovering cautiously outside the A/V lab.

Satisfied, he entered his office and sat at his desk. He kept the door open, leaving for himself an unobstructed view out into the corridors.

When Nick walked by about fifteen minutes later, on his way to the print lab or to find one of the others or for whatever it was that he was doing, he paused long enough at the door of the office to let another lopsided grin go Grissom's way.

For some reason, it made Grissom feel better. Not that he had been feeling bad, but there had been a weight in his chest that has settled there some time ago. It seemed lighter now.

Maybe this camera crew that he had thought were going to be intrusive, annoying, irritating…well, they _were_ all of those things, but their arrival had caused something more. Unspoken resolve and understanding. Weights to be lifted.

It was perfect timing.

* * *

That's all. Told you it was short. 


End file.
